


Silver Cufflinks

by GuileandGall



Series: Violaceous Fury [16]
Category: Saints Row
Genre: Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Suits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-30
Updated: 2014-07-30
Packaged: 2018-02-11 03:04:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2051136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GuileandGall/pseuds/GuileandGall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The sight of Troy in a suit, really any suit, distracted Furia much too easily. Sadly on a morning when they both have places to be, she finds herself caught up in the display of him putting on his suit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silver Cufflinks

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Chy and Kakumei who betaed this piece for me. Made Kakumei do it because she was sending all these inciting remarks about cufflinks and this sprang forth.

**Silver Cufflinks**

**-1-**

As per her usual, Furia was trying to decide between black and white. Long ago, she gave up asking Troy’s opinion. If she called him into the closet to help her choose, he would just mumble wordless affirmatives against the back of her neck that did nothing more than waylay her. Though she never minded being late to places for _that_ particular reason, but she had promised Pierce do her best to be on time for whatever the hell required her presence with the type of desperate urgency he demonstrated when he told her about the appointment.

Finally, opting for a black sleeveless number with a high neck paired with a long white jacket, she grabbed the hangers and headed toward the bedroom. The smooth movement on the other side of the room caught her eye and halted Furia’s progress as she exited the closet. A subtle half smile curved her lips, slowly and deliberately, just the way Troy shrugged into his jacket.

_Goddamn._

She sighed appreciatively, opting to watch him while she leaned against the threshold. A few tugs, and a roll of his shoulders, left her biting her lip as his hands smoothed down the plane of his chest. Troy leaned forward, lifting his chin slightly as he checked the form and placement of the knot in his silk tie. They were all silk now, Furia made certain of that, and he did not seem to mind.

She wasn’t sure what he was doing when he faced the dresser so she took the moment to let her eyes travel the line of the classic cut single-breasted black worsted wool suit accentuating his body from the slight broadness of his shoulders to the slope to his hips. She loved the way a three-button jacket played up his height and the leanness of his frame. He turned again, another sliver of silk in his hands. The plum-colored pocket square matched the accents in his tie. He tucked it into place after folding it precisely, allowing just a thin line of color to peek over the top of his pocket.

Then there were those damn cufflinks. Furia could not help the broadening of her smile. Finding them had been a stroke of luck. After nearly running out of gas she had wandered around the quiet little town she happened upon, and found them in a quaint, old antique shop. Purchasing the silver fleur-de-lis cufflinks as a joke, she never expected him to ever wear them. She merely thought he might get a kick out of it instead. Now, Troy wore them all the time, even went out and bought more dress shirts made to be worn with cufflinks as a result--not that Furia minded.

She still was not sure why he wore them when he had nicer, more appropriate links, however. When she let herself think about it she chalked it up to the giver. There could be more to it, or less. But just like the little hints of purple he would sneak into his wardrobe here and there (which she thought brought out the color of his hazel eyes), she rarely gave it more than a passing thought. And she never remembered to ask him about it when it did come to mind.

Her attention rapt, Furia’s teeth tugged at the corner of her mouth as Troy’s elegant fingers quickly placed the links then adjusted his cuffs just so. When the action stopped, she glanced up and realized she had been caught letching. She bit down on her bottom lip when a wry, calculated grin curved his lips and he winked at her.

“Enjoying the show?” he asked, his voice dropping to the register which always jumpstarted her pulse. Troy gave his cuff another little tug and she released her lip. “I thought you couldn’t be late this morning.” His voice held a teasing note, prompting her to wet her lips and straighten her back.

With a quick glance, she noticed the way his eyes tracked her movement in the mirror as she crossed the room and laid her outfit on the bed. He adjusted his collar then his lapels to ensure everything lay perfectly. From her point of view, it looked that way. As she strolled toward him, she gave up any pretense of being subtle and ogled him freely. When his eyes returned to her, she only needed a few more steps to close the distance.

“I always enjoy the show,” Furia purred, pressing her hands up his back. As she rose on her tiptoes, Troy turned his head and leaned back enough to let her kiss the corner of his jaw. Her hands smoothed along his shoulders sharply, almost purposefully. As the touch continued down his back it eventually became completely decadent. When her hands followed the curve of his ass, he glanced over his shoulder at her with a coy smile. Furia just tilted her head, aiming to appear innocent, but the quirk in her eyebrow and the lasciviousness in her gaze would never allow her to pull that off.

Troy bowed his head just a touch as he placed a tender kiss on her forehead. “You planning on wearing this to the interview?” he asked, his hands skimming over the smooth silk of her purple slip as they traced the slope of her hips.

“Yes.”

“Might have to see if I can’t tape this interview then.” He pressed a kiss to her temple.

“You’ll be disappointed. Though if I sit just right you might get a peek at the lace on my stockings,” she consoled, rubbing her leg lightly against his.

He moved quicker than she expected. Furia quickly tightened her grip on his shoulders as Troy dipped low enough to grab her leg behind the knee. He lifted it over his hip and made an exaggerated show of inspecting the lace by sight and touch. His eyes met hers as his hand slid, probingly to the back of her leg.

“Oh, and these have that fancy lace pattern on the seam, don’t they?”

She merely responded with a smile.

“These kind are among my favorites,” he said against her lips, but it was Furia that closed the distance between them.

When her hands went toward his neck with the intention of diving into his perfectly coiffed hair, Troy caught them,  breaking the kiss, and bringing them to his lips to plant tender kisses on the knuckles of both hands. “I sadly don’t have my own Pierce wannabe who will keep people occupied while I put this back together,” he said with an apologetic look that matched his tone.

When she caressed his face, he turned into the touch. He also didn’t rebuff her when her fingers skimmed over the shell of his ear, just teasing at the salting of his auburn hair at his temples. Tugging at his earlobe, she pulled him close again for another more tempting kiss.

“You are persistent, aren’t you?”

“You already know the answer to that. Plus you look too good in a suit,” she replied, in a husky tone. Her arms hung loosely over his shoulders and she slipped her leg back over his hip.

 

**-2-**

Troy almost wished she had foregone the slip. Of course he knew himself well enough to know that she could have been in an eight-layer snowsuit and he would still want to peel her out of it with his teeth.

“So I pass inspection, then?” he asked, letting his hand trail up the back of her thigh again.

As she nodded, the hunger in her eyes felt insatiable. “Always. But a hundred times more so today, mi cielito.”

Her hand was warm and soft on the side of his neck, and the scent of vanilla clung to her, as always. It seemed almost insane that a scent so typically innocuous as vanilla could set him on an irrevocably rapacious course, and it did not even have to be on her. His assistant made a vanilla coffee once and Troy spent half the afternoon stuck behind his desk trying not to look like a completely ravenous lecher. But it did not matter. Whenever that scent tickled his senses, whenever he smelled or tasted vanilla, the first thing that flew into his head was her.

Furia's other hand slid over his chest, slipping under his jacket and around his waist as she wriggled a little closer. She cast those hazel eyes up at him, blinking through long soft lashes as a purr slipped into her voice. “You know what the sight of you in a suit does to me.” She tucked her nose under his chin, pressing a tender kiss to the top of his throat. “And as always--” another languid peck, and Troy could swear he felt the tip of her tongue on his skin “--you look absolutely irresistible.”

“I think you might be biased,” he laughed as he pressed a hand to the small of her back. Even knowing he should not encourage her, did not have time this morning, Bradshaw held her firmly against him while his other hand lightly traced up her spine.

She halted her teasing at his neck and pulled away, gazing up at him with a heated grin. “Oh I am. Incredibly so. But you still look amazing.”

Troy leaned forward, capturing her as yet unpainted lips in a kiss. Her hands slid up his chest coming to rest at the tops of his shoulders, beneath his jacket.

“It would be an utter shame to rumple you,” she noted as her eyes traveled the expanse of his chest.

Troy took a deep breath. He tucked his nose in her hair nuzzling near her ear. “But you can’t think of anything else, can you?” he murmured hotly. Truthfully, neither could he.  Pressing his lips to the sensitive spot just below her ear motivated Furia to turn her head just so, exposing more of her neck to him. It answered the question, gave him what he wanted, and dared him to take more, all in one simple little gesture. It was one of the things he adored about her.

Humming contentedly, Bradshaw returned his mouth to her neck greedily as he wrapped her more tightly in his arms. In a matter of kisses, one hand dove into her hair, threading into the silky strands at the base of her head. The gasp he received when he tugged her head back and exposed more of that tender column made him pull her hips flush against him. That garnered him a sigh that carried a tempting trace of a moan.

Troy growled and bit her neck sharply. After his correction earlier, her hands infuriatingly stayed out of his hair, though at that moment that was precisely where he wanted them. Pressing her against the wall, he loomed over her, lifting her lips to his as he pulled at the back of her neck. As they kissed, he slipped the straps off her shoulders, pulling her hands away from him as she slid her arms free. With a claiming thrust of his tongue, his hands went straight to her breasts, moving in a prescribed manner with the hopes of drawing lurid and vocal reactions from her. A gentle kneading gave way to the rougher pinch he offered as he rolled her nipples between his fingers. The tender, yet firm, little tug he gave them incited a sensational growl that went straight to his head and his groin.

As he teased her, she returned the favor distractingly. Her nails hummed along the crisp, Egyptian cotton of his dress shirt. Then, as her palms pressed across the front of his trousers, her whole body seemed to shift against him liquidly. Resting his forehead against hers, an almost frustrated groan resonated deep in his chest. The caresses she made alternated between gentle and firm. In a smooth, slow motion his hand moved up her throat. When he cupped her face, his thumb pressed over her bottom lip. Furia’s intense gaze held his as her tongue peeked out and flicked at the tip of his finger; Troy’s breath caught in his throat when her head tipped forward just enough to suck at it briefly before pulling away. She did this several more times, and each time her tongue teased as she took a bit more of his finger into her mouth. All the while, her clever hands moved along his throbbing cock.

His free hand skated across her belly and pressed between her legs. She bit the pad of his thumb with an intoxicated grin, before her mouth closed on it again. The challenge clearly shone in her bright hazel eyes that seemed to be just a little more green than usual. Furia had Troy wound tight. His typically deliberate actions became more frenzied. She always called him calculating, even in bed; joked about him having things planned out three moves ahead like a champion chess player, or thinking a few bars ahead like when he played a particularly complicated piano solo. But right now he was sight reading. He slipped his hand beneath the silk and lace; they both gasped when his fingers stroked across her heat-- though hers was sharper and his held an amazed stroke of sudden need.

Slipping a finger into her, he inhaled deeply as she sighed. “Christ, Furia,” he said quietly.

“I’m telling you it's the suit.” Her reply held a note of glee and a breathiness that was due only in part to the shift of her hips in tandem with the determined movement of his hand.

His slick thumb traced the open O of her mouth as he pressed another finger into her. As he curled them, Troy kissed her hard, swallowing her deep moan and finally relinquishing that last shred of care for the time or anything else beyond the two of them, right there, right then. With great reluctance, he abandoned her heat to tug her panties down. She danced out of them as her hands halted their teasing to loosen his belt and undo his pants. His trousers landed around his ankles with the bright ringing of his belt buckle.  

The two of them moved in a heated frenzy. Furia lifted her leg over his hip, while tugging his shirt out of the way. Troy, however, could not give a damn about the possibility of having signs of her on his shirt. His focus centered elsewhere. He guided himself into her, savoring that sweet pleased coo of hers and the way her hips canted toward his. Tapping at her other thigh, he moved slowly until she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and her legs around his waist. Her hands toyed with his hair, which made him lean his head back into her touch before the need to kiss her hard peaked. The arm around her waist pulled her hips firmly against his as he moved--rough, sharp strokes that glided against her. She panted in his ear as he sucked at the delicate skin of her throat.

The hiss sharpened as she pulled his head back. Furia’s tongue pushed past his teeth in a familiar, demanding way. It was a sign that she was close, and an order all wrapped up in one. The kiss broke. She licked Troy’s lips softly and placed a genteel peck on his top lip as he noticed that intimate dare in her eyes. Holding him just so, as always she all but stared him down as the moans deepened and lengthened. He loved watching her come, seeing her intensity, the bit of surprise as it started, the touch of pleading while she keened, and that precious softness that always followed. Sometimes it was the surprise that got him, but usually it was the pleading look that pushed him over the edge.

The flex of her legs around him belied the movement of her hips against him. As the tension in his frame settled, Furia kissed him again--tender and gentle. Her pliant lips brushed his as one hand pulled at his cheek and the other stroked the back of his head softly. Troy pressed her against the wall, holding them both steady.

 

**-3-**

“Call in sick,” she whispered against his mouth.

“What?” he laughed, pulling away slightly to see her face.

Her legs tightened around him. “You call in. I text Pierce. We lock the doors, turn off the ringers, disappear for a day.” Her hand threaded through the traces of silver coming in at his temples. Troy didn’t care for it. But she liked it, thought it made him look more distinguished, even sexier. When she stroked his cheek with the backs of her fingers, she added, “It’s been months since we stole a day and just vegged.”

Furia loosened her hold on him. He held onto her as she let her legs drop back to the ground. Both of them reacted vocally when he slipped from her. She glided his tie from over his shoulder, toying with the soft silk as she gave him that look. The soft gaze through long lashes as she tilted her head just so--he always said it was worse than her puppy eyes.

“We don’t even have to cook. We can order in or warm something up. We can be totally unproductive all day--watch movies, eat junk food, or--” she tipped her head toward her shoulder with the barest hint of an innocent expression on her face “--stay in bed all day. Maybe do all of the above, or wear each other out and take catnaps until sunset.”

Furia wrapped her hand in his tie, pulling his lips to hers. Her next word teased across his mouth on a breathy whisper that tickled his lips. “Please.”

The tip of his nose circled lightly against her skin, his whiskers soft as his lips grazed hers. His eyes met hers after each flirtatious kiss. He dragged out his response for several minutes with them until she grabbed his coat and narrowed her eyes at him in an impish little glare.

“Troy!” she crooned.

“What?” he drawled, with as much mock frustration as he could pepper into his voice at her impatience.

“So? Will you play hookey with me?”

He pulled an almost contemplative face at her, which got him a testy but weak pound against the chest with her fist balled in his lapel.

“I haven’t moved yet, have I?” he challenged, looking at her like she should have known the answer without him having to say it.

Her smile bloomed wide while she wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her nose against his from her tiptoes.

“Then take me to bed, or lose me forever.”

Troy just laughed, kissing her warmly. “I’m not watching that movie again,” he said, slipping out of his shoes by stepping on the heels, and removing his pants and boxers from around his ankles by stepping on them.

Once she wrapped her legs around him again, he carried Furia to the bed, depositing her atop it rather unceremoniously. Landing in a heap, she giggled wildly and glared up at him enthusiastically. Shaking his head, he grinned down at her his own laugh entirely content. He pulled his socks off then shrugged out of his jacket, which he tossed on a nearby chair.

“You know. I’m going to make certain you have to wear that dress tomorrow,” he warned as he tugged his tie loose and tossed it at her.

She had shimmied out of her slip and crawled back up to the head of the bed. She scooped up the tie and draped it over her neck letting it hang deliectably between her breasts. Troy took a moment appreciating the sight of her all burrowed in white--sheets, blanket, pillowcases--with the purple-accented tie tauntingly dangling against her caramel skin. A beautiful, bright and relaxed smile lit her eyes at the prospect of ignoring the whole world for the next fourteen or so hours.

“And why is that?” she countered, snuggling back against the pillows as she strategically only let the covers lay over her thighs.

Unbuttoning his shirt hastily, he soon undid the cufflinks, which helped start this whole thing, and laid them on the nightstand. Then he discarded his shirt, letting it fall where it may. Troy joined her, sliding between the sheets and pulling her beneath him while he crawled over her. His fingers moved lithely up the column of her neck.

“Because I’m going to cover this--” his grip on her neck was gentle but firm before his hands moved to her breast, which he kneaded “--these,” he said, kissing her mouth and pinching her nipple. Then his hand swept over her hip and down her bent leg. He pinched the inside of her thigh. “And this spot, right here, with not so subtle reminders that you are insatiable.”

As his mouth closed on her jugular her nails dug into his shoulder while her other hand cradled his head to her neck. The dull pressure sharpened when he bit her, turning her contented moaning sigh into an excited hiss that arched her into him.

“Ay Dios.”

Her leg slipped over his hip, her heel pressing into the back of his thigh while he finished off his mark. He leaned back, inspecting his work and running his thumb over the deep red mark that would be relatively easy to hide given its placement. But with a threat like that she knew that he was not going to stop with just one and she knew that he would not make them all quite so disguisable.

“Perfect,” he noted with a quirk of his lips. Then he shifted and ran his fingertips along her hairline. “What do you think? One for every time I make you come?” he asked, meeting her gaze as he leaned over her.

Furia giggled, wrapping an arm around his back and tightening her embrace. “Sounds delightful,” she said with a mischievous grin. “But don’t expect that I won’t return the favor.”

He darted back when she leaned toward him. “Oh, but you forget. I know precisely how to limit your access, and we both know I have no qualms using this tie for nefarious purposes.”

When he kissed her she could not help but moan as he pulled said object from around her neck, slowly, letting the friction warm her skin and entice her imagination.

“Troy,” she all but whimpered against his lips when he took her hand in his. The tease of the silk against her wrist made her shudder with an anticipatory delight, but he merely wrapped it several times then pulled it loose, resulting in a similar warm, burning feeling on her arm. His fingers threaded with hers as his mouth covered hers.

“You can’t decide which it would be, can you? Torturous or divine?” he chuckled darkly against her lips.

He knew she equally adored and reviled being restrained for the exact same reason. Furia loved to touch, almost needed to touch during sex. Stealing that from her, or stealing her sense of sight during the act was maddening--and it could go either way: frustration or extreme arousal. Sometimes neither of them knew which way it was going to go from one moment to the next.

“Perhaps we’ll find out, because we both know how rambunctious you can be,” he said as he nuzzled the other side of her neck from the spot she just made.

“That’s cheating.”

Troy pressed hot and hard against her hip. “You think?

Furia moaned at the mere prospect and pressed her fingers through his hair hard enough to dislodge him from the curve of her shoulder. “You still need to make a call.”

“Fuck.”

It was a sentiment she silently echoed when he rolled off her. She pressed her warm body against his back. “Could you pass me mine?” she asked as she leaned over his shoulder.

She sent a text to Pierce then turned her phone off. While he made his own call, Furia decided to work on earning her next bite mark. Her hand skimmed his inner thigh, which earned her a warning look. Her smirk became defiant as she cupped his balls and massaged gently. She just had to grin when he muted the phone to avoid moaning in his secretary’s ear.

“Furia,” he said quickly, looking at her with a mixture of intoxication and reprimand that made her wrap her hand tightly around his cock.

He was the only person she knew who tended to make calls with his finger poised for the mute button. Of course she also knew it was her fault; she had trained him to do it. Phone calls bored her easily, especially when he was the one on the phone, and it was not uncommon for him to end up with her hand, her head, or all of her in his lap on a call. The latter was always the most fun--on more than one occasion she knew that the old police commissioner and the mayor of Stilwater had heard her moaning, even if they had missed out on Troy’s responses.

Once his call was complete, Bradshaw turned on her with a grin that made her giggle and try to scoot farther onto the bed. He dragged her back by an ankle then grabbed her hands and pinned them over her head with one hand. Furia was still giggling when he started tickling her rather mercilessly.

“What is it with you and phones?”

“They were cutting into my sexy time,” she chided breathlessly, which earned her more tickles.

She gasped then purred softly when he bit her on the nipple, following it up with a slow conciliatory suckling that prompted her to shift her hips against his.

“Mi cielito,” she murmured huskily.

Troy hummed against her skin, dotting languid warm kisses back up to her mouth. His free hand caressed her face softly as he looked down at her that way that made her feel like there was nothing else in the world beyond the two of them.

“Mi Sol,” he said, holding her gaze.

Furia couldn’t help but smile. He always shortened her name, at least after he found out that Soledad meant solitude. Then he found out what Sol meant and said he found it much more appropriate. Despite that, most of the time he still only called her that when they were alone.

When he released her hands, she pulled him in for a long slow kiss. If they were going to steal a day all to themselves, then she had every intention of taking full advantage of it. Though having him give in to her whims was not all that rare, Troy foregoing any responsibility was. As such, Furia had every intention of making that lazy day memorable for both of them, if not a little exhausting.


End file.
